


A Court of Shadow and Flame

by Heavilycaffeinatedwriter



Series: A Series of Hope and Redemption [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Azriel Needs a Hug (ACoTaR), Beron is a shit dad, Childhood Trauma, Elucien rights, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Healing, M/M, Mates, Mating Bond, Mild Smut, POV Azriel (ACoTaR), Poor Lucien Vanserra, Post-Book 3.5: A Court of Frost and Starlight, Post-Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin, Redemption, Sad Lucien Vanserra, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Spoilers for Book 4: A Court of Silver Flames, The Autumn Court (ACoTaR), The Court of Dreams (ACoTaR), The Court of Nightmares (ACoTaR), The Night Court, The Spring Court (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavilycaffeinatedwriter/pseuds/Heavilycaffeinatedwriter
Summary: Azriel had never been chosen.He loved the Morrigan for over 500 years yet his attempts at wooing her had never been fruitful. Elain Archeron was perfect yet unattainable. The females he sought after never seemed interested in him.Ariadne Vanserra never had a choice.Her entire life had been carefully crafted by her father and his ambition since she was a baby. No actions she took were ever her own and the war had left her even more broken than before.What happens when when the worlds of flame and shadow collide and the two find themselves juxtaposed against one another in a battle of wit and words after the youngest Vanserra decides to help her estranged brother win over his mate?
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Elain Archeron/Azriel, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Jurian/Vassa (ACoTaR)
Series: A Series of Hope and Redemption [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175018
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73
Collections: A Court of Thorns and Roses/ Throne of Glass Series





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After the state of that Azriel POV in ACOSF, I knew that something had to be done.
> 
> Thus, from my twisted mind-palace, A Court of Shadow and Flame was born.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what is my first bit of writing inspiration in months and the strange journey I plan to take these characters on

Ariadne Vanserra had been born for a singular purpose; to further her father’s power through an advantageous marriage. There had been no thought of her own natural-born abilities, no, such ideals were foolish; she was a female after all, born and bred for the pleasure of another male. Beron had made such things clear from the moment she was old enough to understand her place in the world.

It had been a shock to all when the Lady of Autumn, who had produced nothing but sons for years, gave birth to a small, wide-eyed baby girl with hair as red as the autumn leaves. Her eighth and final child. A blessing from the mother herself it would have seemed. The young mother had wept as she held her first and only surviving daughter in her arms, both in joy and sheer terror of how her brute of a husband would react when he returned home from his latest hunting expedition with his sons, no doubt expecting another to add to his brood. She and Beron had never expressly discussed having a daughter and the female worried that it may displease him beyond reproach, especially considering the recent atmosphere between the two that had lingered and festered in the decades since her last pregnancy and her husband’s speculation about who truly sired his seventh son. Beron, however, was not displeased. He had practically burst through the door to the birthing chamber as soon as he arrived, eyes blazing with such feral delight that she thought his gaze may burn her. The Lady of Autumn knew then that she had been sorely mistaken in anticipating a volatile reaction on meeting his daughter, noting the careful way he cradled the babe after he had practically ordered her to hand the small bundle over to him so he could see his child. Her fear, however, that had been all too right as she watched the cogs whirl and turn in his mind at the sight of his latest child. No, she had realised as his brown eyes darkened, a child was not what Beron saw as he gazed at the squirming infant in his arms. He saw a pawn. A pawn that, if his wife understood his greedy expression correctly, he believed capable of winning him the whole damn game. It was a look that made the female tremble to her very core.

They had named her Ariadne, for she would be Beron’s most holy and effective piece on the board yet. They say that a name is everything and nothing at the same time and, as young Ariadne matured into her female body, it became clear that she was the physical embodiment of everything that her name represented while also mastering the complete opposite effect. Chaste and sinful all at the same time. With her large, doe-eyed innocence that remained plain on her pretty face juxtaposed with the temptingly full curves of her body. The Autumn Court’s secret and most prized weapon that Beron was eager to wield. The only thing that prevented him from selling her off quicker was his own vicious greed for the highest possible bidder and the delayed bloom of that all-important first blood. Even Beron was not foolish enough to hand her over when she was of no breeding use, it would only serve to anger whatever male that felt duped by his child bride and risk his prized trophy being sent back to him tainted and of no further use. That was a fate the High Lord of Autumn refused to face, especially after having spent so much time crafting his daughter into the perfect image of a demure bride-to-be.

However, despite the time the male spent overseeing Ariadne’s lessons and moulding her in his image, even he was blinded to the unholy fire burning beneath her skin. An inferno that nearly brought the entire Autumn Court Palace crashing down when young Ariadne finally bled for the first time and that power was released. It shuddered through the entirety of her court; a feeling so warm you could have sworn it the result of the Sun itself scorching its path to victory. It was a power so destructive that by the time Beron and his soldiers made it to her bedchambers, Ariadne could barely be seen through the dome of fire surrounding her. The flames did not burn her, rather they beckoned her, offered her a glimpse at what great power she was truly capable of and the light that burned deep within her. It terrified her. Beron must have seen the hesitation in her face because that was when he struck, and her world went black.

The High Lord of Autumn had never felt foolish before that day, not until he had seen the true extent of the power he had within his grasp, the power that he had so wilfully been blind to. The fire that burned within his daughter, that was not a fire worthy of being some simple High Fae’s wife; that fire of hers was worthy of a title and he was going to acquire it for them. For him.

Not three months later, Amarantha came to Prythian and Beron’s eyes had sparked with something that neither Ariadne nor her mother had seen before, not since that day when Beron had held his daughter for the first time. He smirked as though he had already won when he drafted up the first letter and sent it off to Hybern the following week. Why strengthen alliances and bonds between the simple High Lords of Prythian by offering Ariadne as their Lady when he could claim a much more sought-after prize. Beron wanted Hybern.

Ariadne could not say what plans or details were exchanged within those letters, only her father and his council were privy to what the male wrote to the illustrious King of Hybern. All she knew was that she was as good as a broodmare being haggled after, she was not entirely sure if the amount of time that the bargaining took was a compliment or an insult but, seeing as she would have no choice in her fate either way, she chose not to dwell on such an insignificant detail. She would rather enjoy whatever of her limited freedom she had left before she was forced into a marriage and shipped off miles away from her home and family. While her father and brothers were not the best company one could keep, she would take them any day over a stranger who had started a war over four hundred years prior and slaughtered thousands of innocents just for being human. Her father and even her brothers were known for their volatile temper, but she could scarcely imagine that such a male who had done so many heinous things would not be an even worse creature to contend with.

Luckily, her father had informed her after a few decades of correspondence, she was destined to marry the King of Hybern’s nephew, Prince Daghan. While the male would not be much of an improvement, the young Vanserra imagined that he would be a sight better than his uncle at the very least, it was a hope that Ariadne managed to cling to. She clutched it tight enough to drain the very life from it until the day that Beron informed her, in no uncertain terms, that she would be travelling to Hybern to meet her aloof fiancé and his unsettling family. She was to be escorted, of course, as Beron was not in the habit of taking the chance that Hybern very well might like to sample the milk without agreeing to buying the cow, or so her brothers had teased as she struggled to stomach her evening meal at the thought. She had not even kissed a male, due to her father restricting her adventures to the end of the palace grounds, for fear of some rumour of her besmirched innocence ruining all his cleverly crafted plans. She had only even seen the cities of her own court through the windows of carriages and wheelhouses. Her father had turned her should be home into her own personal gilded cage and she was now to be shackled to a male who will likely do the same and worse. Ariadne did not know what Eris saw on her face that night as they locked eyes at the table, but it was enough to snap her eldest brother upright in his seat as he glared at their snickering brothers, barking a few quick and harsh words at them that she barely registered before the table descended into silence. Ariadne said nothing, merely offering him a small but grateful look before returning to her vigil of poking her roast potatoes around her plate as her stomach flipped. But she was grateful for the small reprieve, grateful for Eris and the sway he held over their three other brothers.

The next day, Ariadne said goodbye to the Autumn Court. The young female tried not to dwell on the pang that shot through her at the sight of a fresh ring of bruises circling her mother’s wrist as she reached up to tuck a strand of Ariadne’s red hair, identical to that of her own, behind a pointed ear for a final goodbye. She knew her mother had fought Beron on her impending departure, knew that the only reason her sweet and wonderful mother was covered in bruises beneath her velvet dress was because of her, because she had crawled into her mother’s bed the night before and sobbed like a youngling in sheer terror of what awaited her across the sea. Her mother had comforted and held her like she did when she was but a girl and even Ariadne could not ignore the change in the note her voice carried as she assured her that everything would be alright. Ariadne’s weeping had convinced the Lady of Autumn to fight back one more time and it had ended the way it always did when someone pushed her father beyond reason, when he unleashed that temper of his. Yet, her mother had still tried. That was the reason that she forced herself to hold back her tears until their ship was out of her mother’s line of sight. She would not let her see how hopelessly weak and frightened she truly felt, not when her mother had fought to be strong for her.

Her father had been grossly arrogant, as usual, in his own abilities of persuasion and had not taken into accountability just how stupid he was acting by placing his trust in Hybern. The fruits of his labour of stupidity came to fruition the moment the King of Hybern laid his eyes upon her, his lewd gaze lingering on the heaviness of her breasts and the curve of her hips in a way that made her want to pull her red cloak tighter around her body to cover it from view. When his dark eyes met hers, she realised what a mistake this had all been, the unadulterated predatory intent behind them made her want to turn and run, she would swim back to Prythian if she had to, just to get away from that gaze. The unit of guards her father had sent with her seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere as well as they casually rested their hands on the hilts of their swords although the twitch in their bodies showed they were as alert as her family’s hounds on a hunt. The Captain, Roth she believed his name was, finally broke the heavy silence by asking where the Prince was. Ariadne knew the moment that Hybern’s lips curled, as though he had thought of something so wickedly clever that he could not keep the amusement from his face, the moment he drawled out a statement so simple yet which had the power to alter everything that they were done for.

"It seems I've changed my mind"

Sometimes, in the darker nights, Ariadne still heard the screams of the Captain, of the soldiers as they fought to protect her, to get her back to the ship and out of harms way. Hybern had been prepared, his own power too strong to be stopped by a mere handful of soldiers. Only when they were all dead and the young female was backed against a wall did he make his move and finally claim his prize.

His virgin bride wrapped in a cloak of blood


	2. Ariadne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A new chapter!
> 
> Thank you all for all the love you have given my story so far, I really appreciate all the sweet comments, it really makes my day!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

It was unbearably cold.

Hybern’s war camp seemed to operate on its very own climate. She used to believe that Hybern itself was as cold as it could get but her captor seemed hungry to prove her wrong when he announced that they were going to war with the place she once called home. The place she longed for each night. Ariadne had been dragged with him everywhere like a hound on a leash, paraded through his camps like a trophy to serve as a reminder; Prythian could be defeated, her people could be controlled. If Ariadne had a singular drop of fire left in her she would snap at each and every one of them but, alas, she did not. The young female, once so full of innocence and light, was far to broken for any of that.

Hybern was a cunning bastard, she could not deny that. He was careful never to share any information with her that would be particularly important and, when he did elect to tell her something, it usually only served to further torment her mentally. He would whisper threats against her family, promises of their slow and painful deaths by his hand, as though they were sweet nothings when he had her completely at his mercy in the night, when the redheaded female could do nothing but sob as he took what he wanted from her and her body.

_His_ body, he liked to remind her, she was his to own, his property.

The day the war ended, Ariadne remained chained in her cage deep in the heart of the war camp as always. Forever waiting and dreading her captor’s return. A return that would never come...

She knew he was dead the moment the barrier spell surrounding her prison lifted, freeing her magic from its bindings although her wrists remained chained. The manacles were not of his creation. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest and all of a sudden Ariadne had became very light, as though she may float away if she were not chained to the ground.

It was the first time in years that she had allowed herself to hope; to hope that she could be saved. She did not know how it happened, but she found herself kneeling on the ground sobbing, red hair obscuring her tear stained face as she hung her head while her tears pattered the ground beneath her.

_He was gone _ , she could barely contain the flood of emotion that overwhelmed her at the thought. 

Ariadne did not know how long she stayed there, sobbing in the dirt, but only that eventually she realised that she was no longer alone.

She scented him before she saw him; oak moss, cedar wood and something else she could not quite recognise. His scent was unlike anything she had ever encountered before. Ariadne raised her head, eyes wide as she searched the shadows surrounding her prison. After a few moments of tense silence, she saw him.

The male seemed to emerge from the shadows as though he was part of them, moving with the same fluidity and grace as he stepped into view. All dark hair and sharp features, he even looked beautiful covered in the blood and dirt of the battle. The sheer dominance of his presence and the large wings he carried proudly behind him made Ariadne shift backwards slightly.

The male noticed and stopped, tucking his wings in slightly, something shifting in his features. Ariadne could see it in his eyes; he pitied her. She could understand why, considering how she must look; sitting in the dirt of a cell, shackled, bruised and sobbing in the scrap of fabric the King had deemed a suitable dress for his pet. She hated that look, it made her feel even more pathetic than she already did. She did not need his pity, nor did she want it.

The door of the cell unlocked before she could even muster up a snarl, shadows pushing through the only barrier between them and slithering towards her. It was as though they had a life of their own. Her eyes widened as she dropped his gaze and followed the shadow as it reached her, winding around her wrists and slipping beneath the manacles before they two snapped open and fell to the ground her tears had stained.

The clang of her freedom against the ground rung in her ears as she rubbed her wrists, raw and bruised from the constructing metal, watching the shadows hover near her unsurely.

“You’re free”

His voice startled her, the smooth baritone wrapping around her mind as she looked up at him once more. She was no longer able to hold back the raw vulnerability in her eyes as she gulped down those two little words like a starved animal.

She was _free_

Ariadne was not entirely sure that she even knew what that meant. After having spent so long in such deep despair, the young female was not able to comprehend what allowing the light back in would be like. The thought terrified her and it was bare on her face for this strange male to see.

Her _weakness_.

He looked as though he may attempt an approach once more, studying her tentatively as though one would a wounded animal, before his head snapped to the darkness suddenly. It was as though he was listening to something although Ariadne was unable to discover what before he blended back into the darkness once again, leaving the young female alone and confused.

She did not have time to ponder it as her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching voices, turning her gaze back onto the darkness surrounding her former prison to spot the source.

A figure came into view once more, only it was not the mysterious male of shadow she had unintentionally bared her soul to. This male was familiar.

It was her brother.

_Eris_ , was the only thought in her head, like the repetition of a prayer as she took in the sight of him. It was as though Ariadne was trying to remember every little detail; every cut, every scrape, every bloody patch of flesh peeking through his ruined armour.

His lips were moving but the ringing in her head drowned out any sound escaping them as he made his way towards her and into the cell. He feel to his knees in front of her, eyes wide in disbelief. Only then did she understand the shapes his lips were making. He was saying her name, just her name.

_Ariadne_

His arms were around her then and she was once again sobbing, this time into the crook of his neck as she clutched his chest. 

_Ariadne_

Her grip was desperate, unyielding, as though she would let him go and he would fade away.

_Ariadne_

She would not loose him again, she would not loose any of them again.

_Ariadne_

She was free

* * *

“Ariadne!”

The female’s eyes snapped open, almost golden in the gentle morning light of dawn that trickled through the gaps of her drapes, as she looked to the door of her bedchambers. She felt a shift in the bed and turned her gaze on the naked male who lay beside her, the previous night’s activities a haze of wine and drunken kisses, and nudged him awake. It was far to early in the morning to receive a scolding from her big brother and she would rather sneak the male, who’s name escapes her, out of her window before Eris gets impatient and breaks down the door. Again.

The dark skinned male grumbled as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the light, his brows creasing together as his gaze fell on Ariadne, who was already slipping out of the bed to pull on her dressing gown to cover up her naked body. Clearly, he too was struggling to piece together their previous evening.

“Ariadne, I know you can hear me”. Eris was in a particularly snippy mood this morning, if the tone of his voice was any indication.

The male’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice, clearly he had recalled enough about who she was to be rightly afraid of her big brother catching them in such a position, it seemed all the motivation he needed to vault from the bed and begin hauling on his discarded pants. Ariadne might have laughed at the ridiculousness of how frantic his movements were but that particular sound was a rarity to escape her lips nowadays. When she was sober, at least.

“Cauldron, would you give me a moment to gather myself?” She called out to the other Vanserra as she watched the male scramble on his knees in search for his shirt.

“You mean give whatever male you have in there enough time to locate his clothing?” Eris countered and the male in question froze, causing the youngest Vanserra to roll her eyes before storming towards the door and throwing it open, frowning at Eris’ smug expression as he leaned against the doorway. “You honestly think I couldn’t smell what you have been up to, little sister?”

Ariadne scoffed and turned around, making her way over to her vanity while Eris turned his attention on the male who was still scrambling on her floor, his shirt in hand.

“Get out” Eris snarled softly and the male wasted no time in rushing past him and down the hall.

The youngest Vanserra simply shook her head as she lifted her brush and began to run it through the tangles in her long red hair. Eris had always been protective, she supposed it came with the territory of being the eldest, but he had been particularly unbearable lately. She knew that it was probably her own fault, bringing home too many different males was bound to elicit some form of brotherly concern, however she believed that Eris always managed to take it beyond propriety. He had physically tossed a particularly arrogant male from her bed just the other week.

“Well?” Ariadne hated when he used that tone with her, it made her feel like a youngling in need of scolding.

“What?” She bit back, meeting his russet eyes through the mirror. She knew that it was foolish to challenge him like this so early in the morning but lately she could not bring herself to care.

Eris sighed and shook his head. “Is all this really necessary? You know that it will only serve to further aggravate our father”

“So? Why should I care what he thinks when he has never sought to extend the same courtesy to me?” She could not shake the anger that broiled within her whenever the subject of their father was broached. The urge to tear him apart with her bare hands and teeth something she swallowed down forcefully with each family meal she endured.

His face was solemn as he moved a step closer. “Ariadne-“ A knock at the door interrupted whatever was about to be said as she watched that cold mask slip over his face once more as he turned away from her. Say what you will about her big brother, but he had mastered the art of playing the villain so well that even she sometimes questioned his nature.

“What is it?” He snapped at the servant who stood tremoring in the doorway.

“A message, my lord, for the lady”He choked out, holding out the letter with a shaking hand. Eris was quick to snatch it from him, examining the parchment quickly before dismissing the servant sharply and turning back to his sister.

“Who are you messaging from the spring court?” Ariadne tried not to let herself get too excited, schooling her features to neutrality.

“Who do you think?” She raised a brow and Eris mirrored the action.

“So, you finally reached out to our dear brother”Eris fingered the letter in his pale hands for a moment longer before holding out the parchment, allowing Ariadne to take it from him. It took every inch of control she had not to tear it open as her eyes trailed over the vaguely familiar scrawl of her brother’s hand. She hadn’t seen his handwriting in over fifty years.

“Yes, is that a problem?” She regretted her tone, much harsher than she intended. She knew that Eris was the last person who would object to her getting back in touch with their estranged brother.

“Not at all,” Eris smirked, patting her on the head condescendingly, causing her to scowl. “So long as it keeps you happy, little sister, and doesn’t interfere with your lessons. One of which, in case it had slipped your mind, is in thirty minutes”

Ariadne could have sighed at the thought. Her lessons had been her father’s way of trying to make up for her time spent in Hybern and, as a consequence, all of the things she has missed. They also acted as a way of teaching control over her inner flame that had been smothered in the darkness for half a century. It was destructive to say the least and Eris seemed to delight in her misery.

“Fine, I will be there” She told him, swatting his hand away. “Can you leave now so I may finish getting dressed?”

Eris chuckled with a shake of his head before making his way back towards the door. “Thirty minutes, little sister” He called back before disappearing through the door and closing it with a soft slam behind him.

Ariadne drew her eyes away from the door before turning the letter over in her hands and admiring the wax seal of the spring court. Memories of hidden messages and meetings between her and Lucien scratched the surface of her mind at the sight and she had to swallow back the emotion as she broke the seal with shaking hands before opening the long anticipated piece of parchment. Her eyes devoured the words greedily as she scanned over the page, absorbing the words of a brother she had spent years believing she would never hear from again.

Then the tears began to fall.


	3. Ariadne & Lucien

Ariadne Vanserra was rarely nervous.

It was just another thing that had been drained from her during her time in Hybern. After spending so long under the king’s thumb, other things that she was once afraid of seemed trivial in comparison. Yet, there she stood, frozen in fear as she looked at the large wooden door, the brass knocker seemed to taunt her as it gleamed in the sun.

The house itself wasn’t entirely remarkable, considering the manor and even the dark palace she called a prison that she was used to. However, the male who sat inside was someone that she both longed for and dreaded seeing.

As a youngling, she had not been permitted to leave the safety of her court and, due to the perilous relationship between Lucien and their father, did not get to see her elder brother as often as she liked. Yet the two had managed to form a bond all the same, sneaking notes and letters between courts and secret meetings by the old willow tree at the edge of the Vanserra property’s grounds. Their willow tree.

The house before her was no willow tree, simple in design and decor with twining ivy decorating the walls, although the forrest surrounding it did manage to remind her of back home. It settled her slightly but nothing could stop the thundering of her heart as she finally mustered up the courage to lift the brass knocker.

The sound reverberated through her entire body; there was no turning back now.

What surely could not have been more than a few moments felt like a lifetime before the sound of a small crash sounded from inside the house, followed by a muffled curse. Ariadne barely had time to ponder it, her eyes round with confusion, when the door was thrust open. The male towered over her, his muscular frame obscuring her view of inside, as he took her in with his eyes.

The redheaded female let out a small breath, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed that her brother had not answered the door himself. It meant that she could still change her mind, should she wish, but the mere thought only allowed shame to creep up her spine. She had to do this, for both of their sakes.

Ariadne allowed herself to take that moment to assess the male leaning against the doorframe, who seemed to be greatly enjoying unabashedly raking his eyes over every soft curve of her body if the smirk he wore was any indication. It did not take much to deduce that he was human; with his rounded ears and naturally handsome features. She assumed he must be considered quite attractive for a human, even though she had not been aquatinted will many of his kind in her life.

“Like what you see?”

His voice was surprisingly rich as he chuckled, his dark eyes alight with something that the young Fae was not sure about.

Ariadne brushed off the remark as she regained her composure. “I’m here to see my brother, Lucien Vanserra” Her voice was clear and calm, despite the way her soul trembled at the mere mention of his name.

The dark haired human raised a brow, his features shifting into a sly grin. “So, you’re Lucien’s sister? When he told us that you were coming, I have to admit, he failed to mention your beauty”

“Us?” She questioned, ignoring his attempts at flattery. While he was indeed handsome, in different circumstances she might be tempted to take him to bed, she was here to see Lucien and did not have time to flirt.

“Sorry, why don’t you come inside?” He offered, stepping to the side to allow her entrance to the house. Ariadne nodded softly and only hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and into the warmth of the small manor. The door closed behind her as she took in the plain entryway of the place, failing to notice how the human had moved closer to her until he was once more towering over her, forcing her to tilt her head in order to meet his gaze. His grin was wolffish. “I’m Jurian, by the way”

“Ariadne Vanserra” She offered in return with a small smile. He- Jurian lingered for a few moments beyond proprietary before pulling away and guiding her down the hallway. She followed on in silence, trying to recall what Lucien had mentioned about his human roommate in his letter. She pursed her lips in irritation when she realised that had not told her anything. Some things never changed, she supposed.

“Vassa!” He called out as they made their way into what looked like a small sitting room. “Look who’s here”

Ariadne could see small touches of her brother as she looked around the place, looking beyond the outdated furniture and wallpaper. She saw Lucien and his inate neatness in the stacks of paper on the table that did not have a single sheet out of place, in the perfect stack of evenly cut logs by the fire, in the golden trim of the velveteen drapes. It made her chest ache.

“Stop yelling like a maniac, I’m coming” A female voice called out, sounding rather irritated, drawing Ariadne’s attention away from the room and towards the female making her way into the room through another door towards the back.

Her bright red hair, rather similar to that of her own, was the first thing that caught Ariadne’s attention. She too was human, having the same ears and mortal beauty of Jurian.

“Is this her?” The female gasped as she reached Jurian and Ariadne, looking over the latter in a similar fashion to how Jurian had. “Lucien has really been holding out on us”

“My thoughts exactly” Jurian chuckled and Ariadne opened her mouth to snap something about her being able to hear and understand them when the female spoke directly to her.

“You must be Ariadne,” She smiled, offering a hand to her. “I’m Vassa”

Ariadne hesitated before taking Vassa’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you”

“Lucien told us that you were coming but he didn’t mention that you were even prettier than him” Vassa grinned mischievously as she dropped her hand. “You Vanserra’s really are something else”

Ariadne blinked. She was not sure what she expected when she knocked on the door but it certainly was not this. So, the young Vanserra surprised even herself when she broke into a genuine laugh.

“Lucien seems to have a tendency to leave out information,” She shook her head as she looked between them. “For example, he never mentioned anything about human roommates in his letters. So, I am certainly keen to hear that particular tale”

“Ariadne”

The young Vanserra froze at the voice, familiar and strange to her at the same time. She swallowed thickly and turned towards the door Jurian had brought her through before and there he was.

Lucien Vanserra practically stumbled into the room, wide eyes trained on her and only her. Her heart stopped.

_Eye_ , she realised, _he only has one eye_.

“Lucien” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she took him in fully, hungrily devouring each and every detail as though he would disappear if she so much as blinked. His red hair, identical to hers, was still the same unruly way it always was, long and untamed. His clothing immaculate as always, from his golden doublet to his freshly polished boots. He was just like she remembered, for the most part.

“You’re early” His voice was raspy as he looked her over before his gaze settled on her face.

“Yes” Was all she could think to say, feeling her breath hitch as she met his gaze, unable to take her eyes off the metal one that replaced Lucien’s former russet one that was so identical to her own.

Something in his gaze shifted as he noticed where her attention had gone and he offered her a halfhearted shrug. “I guess we have some catching up to do, little sister”

Ariadne was not entirely cognisant of it but she felt her feet carry her across the room, sure and steady strides that landed her right in front of him. _Lucien_ , she thought, _her Lucien_. She was not sure why, but she found herself reaching out to him until her pale hand was resting against the breast of his doublet.

It was like she needed the reassurance that it was real, that _he_ was real.

She could feel the heavy thump of his heart under her hand and the sensation brought a strangled noise from the back of her throat. His arms were around her then, pulling her into him tightly as she leaned into the embrace.

Ariadne clutched at him as though he were threatening to slip through her grasp, burying her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. Tears pricked at her eyes at the familiarity of it, the way it soothed her.

It was  _ him _ .

Her big brother.

He was here.

It was evidently too much for her as she felt her chest burn before she finally allowed herself to let out the emotion that was clawing within her throat. The moment she let out that first choked sob she found that she was unable to stop, every ounce of pain and grief and guilt she had been struggling with when it came to him. Lucien, her older brother that she was never able to help, who was shunned by their father and court. Lucien, who snuck into the Forrest House at his own risk to comfort her after Beron had announced her engagement to Prince Daghan. Lucien, who she never got to say a proper goodbye to all those years ago. Lucien, who she thought she’d never see again.

His strong arms held her steady despite the way his shoulders shook as he too sobbed onto the top of her head, holding her in a strange mix of tenderness and borderline aggression. She could only imagine the similar thoughts that were going through his own head at the moment.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there, taking their safety from each other’s arms, but she was vaguely aware of Vassa forcing Jurian from the room with her with the promise to return with tea. For once, Ariadne did not notice anything else, she no longer felt as though she was in a constant state drowning. Lucien was acting as her tether to what was real and she had no intention of letting him go.

_Not now and not ever…_

* * *

“Ariadne”

She looked up at him, eyes so soft and questioning that it made Lucien want to cry again. When they had composed themselves enough, the siblings had taken to the settee to talk. Every piece of Lucien’s chest had ached as she apologised and explained why she had not contacted him earlier, why it had taken her so many months to pull herself out of the state she had been in after her return to the Autumn Court. Ariadne had looked equally pained as she spoke, prompting him to assure her that everything was alright and that he did not blame her for needing time to adjust, he was just glad that she was alive. He just wanted to wipe that look from her face forever.

Lucien Vanserra had spent fifty years grieving his younger sister, unsure if she were even alive. Sometimes, in the darker nights, Lucien found himself wishing that she was dead for at least then he knew she was at peace. At least then she would be safe because he simply could not bear the alternative. He could not handle the mere thought of anyone raising a finger against his little sister. Ariadne, who had always treated him far better than he deserved. Ariadne, who deserved every ounce of happiness that the Mother had to give.

Receiving her letter two weeks prior had been a bittersweet moment. The familiar curl of her elegant script had brought him more comfort than he would ever admit, knowing that his sister was out there and still held him in her heart affectionately had brought him more happiness than he had felt in months. However, he also knew what each curve of the letters on the parchment truly meant, the deeper and more sinister truth behind her survival for all those years that made drafting a reply a difficult process. Lucien had always been skilled with words, but he had wasted more parchment in a single week of trying to write a reply to his litter sister than he had in his entire life. Nothing he came up with felt appropriate in conveying what he truly felt, every draft felt too light as though the emotion within them did not carry the right weight. Seven days of endless writing is what it took for a single letter. This conversation would be much harder, he knew, but he did not have seven days now. So, he had to make it count.

“I’m only going to ask you this once, so we’re both clear on what has happened and then we can move forward and not speak of it again, if that is what you want” Lucien clasped his hands together as he looked at her, trying to stop them from shaking as the next words slipped from his lips. Words he did not wish to say but knew that he had to. “Were you…were you raped?”

The look in her eyes made the redheaded male want to tear the world apart. Her throat bobbed and she averted her gaze as she nodded. She had never looked to small to him before, so fragile. If Hybern was not already dead then he would tear out his throat with his teeth. He would do the same to anyone who ever attempted to hurt his sister ever again.

He had known that something had changed within her from the moment he laid his eyes on her, that something in her soul had hardened through having to endure everything she suffered those last fifty years. Gone was that demure young female who was forced to bend to their cruel father’s every whim, who was filled with such wide-eyed innocence and hope for the world. There was a strength in the female before him that ran deep, a strength that was born of her determination never to be weak or bend to the will of another again.

It was something that he recognised in himself.

Something he had never wanted to see in his sister for he knew how it was borne.

Things had changed now, events had taken place that were not in their control, but one thing that had not and would not ever falter is his love for her and the overwhelming instinct to protect her. Even if he knew deep down that she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

However, in that moment, as he watched her look down at her lap with eyes filled with a shame that should not be hers to bare, Lucien Vanserra felt nothing but rage. However, this was one of those times where Ariadne should not have to take care of herself, she needed his love and not his anger. He had no right to be angry, not when that very emotion was already consuming her. So, Lucien pushed past that burning rage and gently took her smaller hands in his.

Ariadne needed her big brother, not a warrior.

“Hey, look at me,” His voice was softer than ever before, even softer than the rare times he was allowed to exchange a few words with his mate. Lucien could have winced at the thought but pushed it away just as quickly. Thoughts of Elain Archeron could wait, he knew they would find him later in the night anyway, as they always did. Right now, this was about a female who actually wanted his affection. His desperately sweet little sister who did not deserve to be in such pain over the actions of a few monstrous males. Ariadne lifted her head, russet eyes so watery and full of pain that a male could drown in them. He could see the shame, the deep grief etched into every muscle in her face. “I need you to know that you never have to be ashamed of what happened to you, none of this should be your pain to bare. This was not your fault”

Ariadne took in a shaky breath and shook her head, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. “I stopped fighting” She whispered and he could feel the raw anger behind the words. The contempt that she had for herself. “I should have fought”

Lucien cupped her cheeks in his warm hands, thumbs gently wiping away her tears as he held her. He wished that she could see herself how he did, how everyone else saw her. He wished more than anything that she could see how strong she was. “No one will ever blame you for what he did and, if they even consider it, you can feel free to send them my way”

That earned him a weak smile and he took that as a small win.

Ariadne surprised him when she gently raised her hand to his own cheek, cupping just bellow his metal eye while her eyes searched his face in silent question.

Lucien felt his chest constrict, he had seen her looking at it earlier and knew that the question was bound to be raised. He had almost forgotten that the last time Ariadne had seen him that he still had both his eyes. Her eyes, their mother’s eyes. Even after all the years that had passed, it still pained him to remember it. To remember  _her_.

“Amarantha” He managed, as means of explanation.

Something flashed in Ariadne’s eyes, although it was not the pity that he had expected, not the pity he was used to.

It was rage. Pure burning rage.

Under different circumstances, Lucien would have smirked. It seemed that Vanserra temper of hers still remained the same.

Ariadne leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed as she pushed past it, just as he had moments ago, and the two simply held each other. The feeling of their skin against each other a reassurance. They were here for each other and they always would be. 

“I’m sorry” She whispered and Lucien’s breath hitched as he fought back the urge to hide her away from all the pain the world had to offer.

“I’m sorry too” He managed before they descended into a comfortable silence together.

Despite the quiet, the message between them could not be louder; despite everything that had happened, their bond was the same. Their love was a constant and always would be. They would always have each other.

For the first time in a long time, Lucien Vanserra felt at peace.

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen followed by a string of curses that made the two siblings jump apart and exchange a wide eyed look.  _What in the name of the cauldron were those two idiots doing?_

“Jurian! What in the ever loving fuck?!” Vassa shrieked and a soft smacking noise followed by the male’s yelp was all Lucien needed to hear to know that Jurian had done something infallibly stupid. Something which the Mortal Queen never seemed to have the patience for.

“I was a fucking eyeball for five hundred years, give me a break woman!” Another crash sounded and Lucien groaned.  _He literally just finished cleaning in there…_

“You can’t use that as an excuse every time” He could practically  _hear_ the redhead rolling her eyes. “I asked you to make a pot of tea, it’s not that complicated!”

“Try not having arms for a couple of centuries and see how you do!”

Ariadne caught his gaze and Lucien was momentarily unsure about how she would respond. He knew that his fellow band of exile members were…an acquired taste to say the least.

“Now I see why you chose to leave them out of your letter” She said, her eyes sparkling slightly with an amusement that nearly knocked him over.

The thought of her joking and teasing again, the idea of seeing even a glimmer of that light within his sister once more made him positively giddy.

And Lucien Vanserra laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter!
> 
> Thank you all for all the kudos and support on this story, it really means a lot so I hope you enjoy this update!
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think!


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